


Unprepared

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Children, Gen, Post-Series, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis walks in on Elodie about to give birth to her second child. (post-series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unprepared

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to tumblr for the prompt, "something with Elodie and Aramis bonding? Maybe he's present for Elodie giving birth to hers and Porthos's baby?"

Aramis is leading Marie along by the hand, making his way back towards Elodie and Porthos’ home. Porthos has been gone for a few months now, but Aramis made a promise to him to watch after Elodie and Marie. It’s been a few years since that promise, not since Marie was a little child, but he holds himself to it. Would die to protect Porthos’ family. Elodie still scoffs about it, often takes the opportunity to make a remark about being able to look after themselves, whenever Aramis shows up for dinner or to take Marie to visit the palace and play with the king. Aramis always smiles, knows every time why it is that Porthos married her, and quietly misses him. 

When he comes to their home this afternoon, Marie humming away, he’s met with Elodie bent over the table, shaking, her hand on her stomach. She’s due any day now, and Aramis knows that Porthos is due to come home by next week in the hopes of helping Elodie through the birth of their second child. 

This is not what Aramis expected. 

“Mama!” Marie cries, alarmed. 

“Marie,” Elodie says, holding out her hand to her. “I’m alright, darling. It’s only – it’s a little earlier than expected. Won’t you go get some water for me?” 

Aramis is frozen to the spot, a flood of fear scalding down his body. He can’t help it. He feels this way during the process of birth. He’ll be able to breathe again, feel safe again, once the baby is born and safe – because the baby will be born and will be safe, God help them – but for now, Marie has more wherewithal than Aramis does (truly her mother’s daughter and her father’s daughter), running around the room as fast as her little legs can carry her, fetching the bucket and then rushing out into the street towards the well.

“Aramis,” Elodie hisses, body rigid with pain and jaw tight. “Get over here now.” 

Aramis moves quickly, fueled on by a command he can actually follow, and with Elodie’s directions, manages to help her towards a mat laid out on the floor. Getting upstairs to her bedroom is out of the question, her feet too swollen and her body too pained. Elodie’s breathing is heavy as a contraction takes over, and she’s silent in her pain for a moment while Aramis hovers helplessly.

“… Porthos is going to be so upset,” is all Aramis can think to say and Elodie lets out a rather pained snort.

“ _He_ can get over it,” she hisses out through her gritted teeth. “Start a fire.” 

Aramis hurries over towards the fireplace. Thankfully there’s still an ember and warm coals from the morning meal and it doesn’t take a lot of coaxing on Aramis’ part to get a fire roaring, just in time for Marie to come hurrying in, sloshing most of the water she’s gotten from the well all over her dress and shoes. 

Elodie, calm despite the pain, directs Marie towards Aramis and makes Aramis help bring the water to a boil. All the while, she’s making herself comfortable as best she can while essentially sitting on the floor. Aramis suggests, gently, that Marie go fetch some blankets and a pillow from her parents’ bed and Marie is off in a flash. 

Once the water is boiled and then cooled enough, he moves back over to where Elodie and Marie are, Marie insistently fluffing up the pillow every few seconds so that Elodie can’t sit still. 

“Marie, darling,” Elodie says. “Will you run to the d’Artagnan’s house and get Constance for me? Be a good girl and go straight there, okay?”

Marie nods.

Aramis, fearful, says, “Shouldn’t I go with—?”

But Marie is already dashing out the door. Elodie shakes her head. “She’ll be alright.” She leans back against her pillow. “Constance isn’t far. Just down the street.” 

Aramis nods absently, and knows he’s hovering. He fidgets when Elodie curls into herself with a huff of pain, not holding back now that her daughter is out of hearing range – sobbing out unhappily, her body shuddering. 

“He better get here soon,” Elodie hisses and Aramis thinks for a moment she means Porthos, but then realizes she’s rubbing her hands over her stomach. She adds, “If he stays in there all day, I swear…” 

Aramis knows he should say something reassuring. He finds he has no idea what to actually say. So instead, he dabs the washcloth against Elodie’s forehead, wiping away the sweat. He asks, “Hoping it’s a boy?”

“Yes,” Elodie says with a small gasp of pain.

“Good choice,” Aramis says, somewhat desperate to speak if only to distract her from the pain, if only to give his brain something to focus on. He adds, “Hopefully he’ll have his father’s nose.”

Sweat clings to her brow but she still laughs out – a delightful sound to hear, given the circumstances. She smiles a bit at Aramis when she says, “And his ears.”

Aramis grins, flushed with admiration and appreciation. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“It’s alright,” Elodie says, much more weighted than he expected given the levity before. “You don’t have to like me.” 

Aramis suddenly feels rather cold all over. “What do you…” 

“You and Porthos have been…” she trails off, and then says, “brothers for a while. I’m not—” She pauses as a wave of pain lances through her, and her nostrils flare. “I’m not expecting to be welcomed with open arms.”

It’s an odd thing to say, considering that in the five years that she and Porthos have been married, it’s likely true that she’s spent more time with Aramis than she has with Porthos, given his time away on the front. It makes Aramis feel a little unsettled, sometimes, when Marie seems more delighted to see Aramis than she does Porthos in those short visits he can manage to make when he’s home for business at the palace. Aramis tries his hardest not to think about that, most of the time. 

“I do like you,” Aramis says, weakly. 

“Hm,” Elodie grunts. 

Aramis flounders a little. “I – I do.” 

“I suppose you would have stopped us if you disapproved,” she says, not accusing. “He listens to you.”

Aramis flushes. “I don’t—”

“He told me about Alice,” she says, simply. 

Aramis sits in a strange, long silence. 

He swallows down steadily. “There have been times when Porthos has… cared for a woman I didn’t approve of,” Aramis hedges, cautious. “But you – never you. I’m quite fond of you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Elodie says, and then adds in that dry, resounding humor he’s come to really appreciate about her, “It’ll make it less distressing when you have to reach up for him.” 

“I am quite skilled with my hands,” Aramis says sagely and deserves the kick to the stomach he receives. Thankfully, Marie arrives with Constance and d’Artagnan in tow about two minutes later and saves Aramis from actually having to perform the delivery.


End file.
